Practice Makes Perfect
by whytejigsaw
Summary: Molly asks Sherlock for an unexpected favour & much to his surprise, he agrees. Plotting ensues with help from John. One-shot. Betaed by ThinkswithPen.


**A new one-shot inspired by catching the end of the *classic 90s film* Picture Perfect.**

"Sherlock…"

"Not now, Molly, I'm at a crucial stage of this experiment."

"You are not. You're staring at an empty slide…"

He looked up. She really was more observant than most.

"Ok. What is it?"

"I need a favour."

"Clearly. I say again…what is it?"

"I need you to come to my uni reunion and pretend to be my boyfriend."

Sherlock opened his mouth to utter his already prepared negative but found that this was no longer suitable. He closed his mouth.

Molly stood in front of him, nervously nibbling her bottom lip.

"Have you mistaken me for John?"

"No, it's you that mistakes other people for John, remember?"

"Fair point. But nonetheless, no. I won't do it."

"Why not?"

"You need reasons? Let's see. A) I don't want to. B) You don't need to prove yourself to people you haven't seen in years. C) They'll see through it instantly."

"You're normally up for a challenge like this…." Her voice took on a wheedling tone.

"I'm busy."

"No, you're not. Lestrade's on holidays and no one else gives you cases. It's only one night."

Sherlock wavered, until Molly played her ace.

"Come on, after all I've done for you…" she left the past hang in the silence between them.

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"When is it?"

"This Saturday."

"Impossible!"

"What? You just agreed you weren't busy."

"No, no, no. You misunderstand. That's not enough time to get a good cover story together and for you to learn it."

"Because obviously you'll know it immediately…"

"Yes. Right, there's nothing for it. We'll have to forgo sleep if necessary. Come to Baker St when you finish work. We'll plan it all out."

He was gone before Molly could agree.

Four hours later, Molly exited the Tube and walked towards 221B Baker St. She saw a familiar figure up ahead and hurried to catch up with him.

"Hey, John!" she called.

He turned around and smiled when he recognised Molly.

"Hi! What are you doing here?"

"You haven't been talking to Sherlock this afternoon then?"

"Nope. Why?"

"I've convinced him to come to my university reunion on Saturday and pretend to be my boyfriend."

"Molly! Why would you do that?"

"A number of reasons. Partially because I don't want to be the only unmarried one there. Partially because I thought it would be fun to watch Sherlock deduce people I knew in the past…ferret out who is lying about their current life. Mostly because I thought it would be a good challenge to see if I could convince Sherlock and to see how long he could stand pretending to be a normal human being."

John looked impressed.

"You have previously unplumbed fiendish depths, Molly Hooper. I knew I liked you."

They reached the door of the house and headed towards the aroma of Chinese takeaway.

"Excellent timing," announced Sherlock, as they landed in the sitting room.

"I calculated you would both be on the same Tube. Molly: I got you a beef in black bean sauce with boiled rice. John: here's your usual pork chow mein."

"Well done, Sherlock, this is exactly what I would have ordered myself," said Molly.

"Of course it is," was the smug reply.

"Molly was just telling me you're doing her a favour. What's the plan?" asked John.

"That's why she's here. Now, Molly, if you'll examine the pages I've printed for you, you'll see that I thought it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible."

Molly looked at 2 neatly typed densely covered pages. They were filled with information about Sherlock.

"Sherlock, no one's going to be testing us. If I say you're my boyfriend, they'll believe me."

"But it's best to have all the bases covered. Now, I think it's simple enough for you to learn by Saturday, but we will do a test later."

"I should do something similar for you then."

"Please!" Sherlock paused his chop sticks on the way to his mouth. He would eat with chop sticks!

"Molly. I know every possible thing about you that is relevant for this to work."

"I doubt that."

"Ask me anything. I did live in your flat for a time. I got bored."

Molly put her hand over her eyes.

"Sherlock. I do not want to hear how you went through all my stuff out of boredom." She gave a small visible shudder.

"Test me. Go on," he goaded.

John got comfortable. Watching other people get dressed down by Sherlock was fun: but seeing someone reverse the tables was much better.

"Alright. What's my mother's maiden name?"

"Walters. I've seen your birth cert."

"Ok. Have I ever broken a bone?"

"Twice. You broke your left ankle falling from a tree aged 11. There's still a small scar."

"How did you see that?" interrupted Molly.

Sherlock held up his hand for silence.

"You also broke your left big toe when you kicked something, probably a wall, out of frustration. You walk funny from it."

"I do not walk funny!" Molly was outraged. Mostly because he'd got it right.

"Come on, see, I observe everything. If you really wanted, I'm sure you could find something I don't know."

John looked at Molly, silently pleading for her to beat Sherlock.

"What was the name of my first boyfriend then?"

"Owen."

"How could you possibly know that?" said John.

"I read her diary."

"You did not!" cried John and Molly at the same time.

"Of course I did. Mind you, the ramblings of a 14 year old girl are not exactly riveting."

"Sherlock, that's an enormous violation of her privacy!" chided John.

"Is it? She should have kept it in a more secure place then."

John rounded on Molly.

"Please tell me you don't still keep a diary."

"No, thankfully, I abandoned it when I left uni."

"But not before she wrote about the threesome she had in her junior year with 2 fellow med students!"

"Sherlock!"

"I wouldn't have expected that of you, Molly. You actually managed to surprise me there. But I suspect your tastes have become rather more mundane since you left university."

Molly had never been more grateful that the unreliable time schedule and sleep deprivation of her junior doctoring years had led to giving up the diary. She could barely even imagine how great her embarrassment would be right now if she'd had time to ramble on about how much she fancied Sherlock Holmes.

Molly held up the pages Sherlock had given.

"Let's see what we've got here." Surely there would be some ammo.

But no. Sherlock had written a CV in prose. When he was born, where, parents' names and occupations. Schools he had attended. She paused.

"You got kicked out of 3 different primary schools?"

John laughed. "You must have been a holy terror at school, Sherlock. I bet you corrected teachers."

"When it was necessary," he said shortly.

Molly scanned the rest of the page.

"You were sent down from Cambridge, weren't you?"

"It doesn't say that on the page."

"It does: right here between the lines!" she said tapping the page.

"2 years studying chemistry and then suddenly you pop up working with the Yard. That's some history cleansing right there."

Sherlock made no reply.

"Well, that'd be the years of drugs and experimentation, wouldn't it, mate?"

"Sherlock, there's no point pretending we don't know about it."

"I'm not pretending: I just doubted you'd want to mention your fake boyfriend's junkie past!"

He had a point.

"Right, well, moving on…"said Molly. "There's no colour in here, Sherlock. I need details to make it seem real."

"What sort of details? You already know how I take my coffee. You've seen me naked. You've seen me deduce people. Do you need to know my bank account number?"

"Woah. Go back there. When did Molly see you naked?!"

It was Molly's turn to roll her eyes.

"You seriously have to ask me that? You are his flatmate. I was forced to be his flatmate for a time."

"Say no more."

"I also had broken ribs and other minor injuries from my fall. I required medical assistance."

For some reason, Molly and Sherlock both became very interested in their dinners for a moment.

John picked up Sherlock's notes.

"She's right. You need more minutiae. No one will believe you're a couple."

"I am confident in my ability to pretend," said Sherlock snippily.

"Ok. Pretend right in front of me now. If you can fool me, you can fool strangers."

Molly thought roleplaying sounded quite sensible. She cleared her throat.

"John, lovely to see you again. May I introduce my boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes?"

"Pleased to meet you. How long have you and Molly been together?"

"6 months," said Molly, as Sherlock said "9 months."

John shook his head.

"You failed at the first hurdle. It's not enough for you to know about each other. You've got to know about the two of you together. Who chased who? Where did you first kiss? Have you been on holidays together…"

"I don't suppose we could convert that undercover operation to Skegness into a weekend away?" ventured Sherlock.

Molly snorted out a laugh.

"You mean when you dragged me through a bog looking for a stolen bicycle? No. "He's right, we need a back story."

"You pursued me obviously."

"I did?" asked Molly.

"Of course. You asked me out for coffee the first time we met."

"Oh. I thought you misunderstood me. You gave me your coffee order."

"Yes. Thought it was kinder than saying no."

John flashed Molly a look of sympathy.

"But I didn't give up," she said quietly.

"No. And after you'd perfected my coffee order, 42 cups later, I finally agreed to go for a drink with you. It was after we'd solved that Huntington murder. Your chemical analysis was pivotal. We had espressos in some vile chain coffee shop, which we agreed were muck and I invited you back to mine, as I had a machine and could do far better," followed on Sherlock.

Molly took up the story.

"We talked for hours that night about history and science and love."

"I thought you must have scored because you two sat up all night," said John, getting caught up in the story.

"But we didn't kiss that night. I wanted to, but I was afraid. It had taken so long to get you to notice me," said Molly.

"Well, that's just what you thought. I'd always been interested in you. In fact, the day we met, I noticed you'd put on lipstick. I wondered what your hair would look like flowing down over your shoulders," said Sherlock, looking at her wistfully.

Molly returned a sickeningly adoring gaze.

"Ok, that's good. Continue to look at each other like that," directed John.

Both of his companions regained their normal expressions.

"So when did you first kiss?" he continued.

"It was last summer. We'd worked late in the lab and in a fit of gentlemanly behaviour, you offered to walk me home."

"I'm always a gentleman!"

John threw a convenient pillow at Sherlock. "Remind me to show you the definition of gentleman some time. Go on, Molly."

"We cut through the park. It was that really late dusk of June and the sky was turning pink. Somehow we started holding hands." She seemed lost in the fake memory.

"We stopped by a fountain…"continued Sherlock.

"No! That's way too Disney. Make it a big oak tree. You pulled her in close, backing her against the tree trunk and whispered that you'd been wanting to kiss her all evening. And then you gazed at her hopefully, leaning in, as she met your lips at the last moment."

"Have you been watching romantic comedies again, John?"

"No. I'm just really good with girls."

"Women, I think you mean, John. And yes, that sounds lovely. Except I think we should follow our first kiss with a row."

"Why?" said Sherlock.

"Because it's entirely believable that someone as belligerent as you would kiss the girl, sorry, woman, and then find something to argue about. What would Sherlock choose to argue about in this instance?"

"I think he would try to correct my kissing technique," said Molly.

"Exactly! Yes, he'd say something like "Really, Molly, given our height differential, I believe you should incline your head 10 degrees further to the right."

Molly giggled and John couldn't help joining in. Sherlock was displeased.

"Actually, I'd be much more likely to suggest that lying down would be a better way to solve the height problem."

This just led to further gales of laughter.

"Well, whatever, we had a row, which ruined our lovely romantic kiss and we argued all the way back to my place."

"When we reached the door, I was on the verge of winning the argument, when you silenced me with a passionate kiss. You had to stand on your tiptoes and you grabbed onto the lapels of my coat for purchase. It irritated me at the time but I was quickly distracted by the kissing."

"Quickly distracted. We could put that on your headstone!" said John.

"Pity you didn't think of it when I died that one time," quipped Sherlock, to further general laughter.

John fished out a bottle of red wine and opened it up. This was turning out to be a far more entertaining evening than expected.

"So how long were you going out before you had sex?" was John's next question, now fully ensconced in his role as producer.

Molly blushed as Sherlock announced "I hardly think people are going to ask us that, John. We're both adults…they'll just assume."

"And we'll have one room at the hotel anyway," added Molly.

Sherlock turned to scrutinise her.

"Where is this? I thought it would be here."

"It's in Leeds. You know I studied in Leeds, Sherlock."

"I…yes, I did know that but…"

"…you thought since London was the centre of the universe that the reunion would be here? Wrong. I love it when you're wrong."

"So you got together last June and it's mid-December now…so people will ask when you're getting engaged."

"Why would they ask that? It's terribly rude," said Sherlock.

"It is. But we're both in our 30s, and they'll presume that we'll want to get a move on. You know…getting married, having babies."

"Urgh. Perish the thought."

"I know. We can just say we're perfectly happy as we are. Plenty of time to make serious decisions," agreed Molly.

"We're both very career focused. Yes, that's plausible and true. We can then segueway into a conversation about my work, which doesn't need any rehearsal."

"Well, that's your cover story fixed. You just need to work on the rest now."

"What rest?" they both said.

"You know. The physical look of being a couple."

He drew blank looks from both parties and sighed again.

"You're sitting beside each other on the couch but your body language isn't complimentary. Couples unconsciously echo each other's movements. Molly'd cross her arms and then you'd follow. Your legs would be turned towards each other. And of course, you'd touch each other regularly. A squeeze on the hand, arm round her shoulders, kiss on the cheek, you know, that sort of thing."

"How do you feel about that, Sherlock?" Molly asked nervously.

"I think I can cope," he said, tentatively putting his arm around her.

"That's good….now, just make it look like you've done it before. Maybe get a bit of practice in between now and the party."

Molly leaned into Sherlock, trying not to betray her delighted feelings on the matter. She pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

"Thanks for doing this, Sherlock."

John watched in amazement as Sherlock actually blushed.

Since the bottle of wine was already opened, there was no reason to not finish it. Molly sat on the couch, tucked up beside Sherlock. John thought she was perhaps enjoying it a little too much but she deserved a bit of fun. The detective, on the other hand, had rarely looked so uncomfortable, which was strange because he'd always been able to pretend when necessary for a case. Perhaps a bit more direction was required.

"You know, Sherlock, you could try a bit harder with Molly there. You look as if you're being subjected to some mild form of torture."

This was entirely the wrong thing to say in Molly's hearing. She leapt off the couch, away from Sherlock.

"Oh, well, I should be going anyway. I'm sure we'll be fine on Saturday night. I'll book train tickets and email you the details."

Sherlock stood up, unconsciously now echoing Molly's movements.

"There's no need to go. I do need some more practice."

"Well, sure we'll see each other during the week…work and so on."

"Before she goes, mate, give her a kiss," insisted John.

"Oh there's really no need…" Molly began again.

"What sort of a kiss?" asked Sherlock, his eyes narrowing.

"Hmmm. Well, you don't want it to be either too passionate or too mundane. Something in between counting her tonsils and the sort of kiss you absentmindedly give your mother."

"That's quite a range."

"It is. I suggest a closed mouth kiss on the lips with a bit of lingering and maybe some hair touching. Let me show you." John rose from his seat.

"No!" said Sherlock, stepping in front of Molly. "I get the picture."

He bent over Molly, drawing his face level with hers. She seemed nervous.

"I'm not going to bite you…"

"No, but you might want to try looking like you would enjoy it…." butted in John.

Sherlock licked his lips before finally kissing Molly, just as John had ordered. She sighed softly and put her hand on his cheek. They broke apart after a few seconds. Molly was a bit dazed but Sherlock looked at his flatmate for a review.

"Too much lingering. It was like your first kiss!" He took another sip of wine.

"It was our first kiss!" pointed out Sherlock.

"True. Well, do some practicing."

Molly decided to take charge.

"Really, John, I don't think we need to practice – people will just believe me. I mean, why would I make up having a boyfriend?"

"Why indeed?" said John significantly.

"Ok, I'm off then. See you at work. Thanks again, Sherlock."

Once she had gone, Sherlock took a long gulp from his own glass and sat back down on the couch.

"I think you enjoyed that entirely too much, John."

"I'm not the only one, mate."

"True, Molly did have feelings for me in the past, which was why it was better to get that kiss over with in front of you."

"I didn't mean her."

"I was completely indifferent to the kiss, thank you very much."

"Right, and you just happened to need an entire glass of wine immediately after she left. I may not be you, and I may be tipsy, but I know intent when I see it. And that was kissing with intent. And also, Sherlock Holmes doesn't do things he doesn't want to."

"Your grammar is appalling when you are drunk. I think it's time for bed."

"Well, she's gone now so you'll have to go alone, Sherlock. But on Saturday, you can share a room with her all night!"

"That's enough!"

When Sherlock got up the next morning, John was on the phone. He listened for a moment, trying to work out who he was talking too.

"No, Mycroft, look, I know you have them. Just email over the footage."

Ok, well, saying the name of the person sucked the fun right out of that game.

Hang on.

"…great, thanks. I know! Bye, Mycroft. Who says you're not a good brother?"

John turned around to face an angry flatmate. Sherlock stood in his red dressing gown, arms akimbo.

"That was unwise, John."

"Oh, come on, you don't even know what I asked him for."

"I don't have to. Asking anything of my brother is always a mistake."

"Well, too late now. And look, he's already had his minions email me the material."

"Go on then….what is it?"

"Don't you want to guess?"

"I never guess. You mentioned footage on the phone…hmm. No!"

"Got there, have you?"

"What is the point in seeing the video feed from the shelf camera?"

"You need to see how awkward you and Molly looked last night….otherwise, her plan will fall flat. And I know you don't want to let her down. So, make me some tea and we'll review it together. Later, we'll go down to the hospital and we, I mean, you, can try again."

Sherlock grumbled something inaudible as John foostered about hooking his laptop up to the tv. By the time he returned, it was already to go.

"Hey, where's my toast?" exclaimed John.

"You don't ask for toast. I've made you tea! Let's get this over with."

"Ok. I've watched it through once without you. So we'll go through it now, warts and all. I warn you: it's not pretty."

The two men sat side by side as the silent video feed showed Sherlock and Molly in their positions the night before. Even Sherlock could see that they did look awkward together. John paused it now and then to comment.

"Now, you see here, you should have curled your hand on her shoulder, drawing her towards you."

Sherlock scoffed.

John fast-forwarded to the kiss.

"Now, this isn't actually bad at all. You both look really into it."

"It's called acting, John."

"Don't give me that bollocks. There's no way you'd go along with this farce if there wasn't something in it for you. I'm just surprised what's in it for you is Molly. When are you going to tell her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," was the prim reply.

"Come on. You're interested."

John stood and pointed at the frozen image of their kiss on screen.

"Your hand is on her arse, pulling her into you. Your other hand is in her hair. Your eyes are closed. She's just as bad as you though. Eyes closed, fingers toying with those curls at the back of your neck, whole body pressed against yours….you two are gonna make good use of that room on Saturday night. But first, you need to be less awkward with each other. Get dressed: we have work to do."

By the time they arrived, they were focused on more important things and in the midst of an argument.

"No, John, we're not going to drive up there. The train is much more efficient. The venue is located centrally. Ah, there you are, Molly. Tell John we're going on the train."

"John's not coming with us, Sherlock."

"Ah, yes, I thought this might come up. We need him."

"And how would I explain that to my classmates? We're in some sort of polyamorous relationship?"

"No, obviously, he'll be upstairs wearing a wire."

"Sherlock, for the last time, I am not coming. Molly, tell this baby he can manage alone."

"Sherlock, John isn't coming. I'm sure he'll give you a pep talk by phone if necessary," said Molly in a soothing voice.

"Fine, but don't blame me if it all goes wrong."

Molly and John shared a look of consternation.

"Right, now that that's settled, we'll go out and come back in again. This time, greet each other like a couple would."

John's face said "do as I say" and who could argue with that face? Sherlock left the room and came back in after a short pause. Molly was at her desk writing up some notes.

"Hi Molly."

"Hi Sherlock."

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Cut!" said John.

"That was terrible. What are you: her brother? Take 2."

"I'm not going outside again. We'll just start from here," argued Sherlock.

"Whatever. Molly, you may need to take the lead here. Romeo isn't up to it!"

"I am so!" Sherlock stormed out of the room and marched back in again immediately.

Molly was now standing by her desk. He approached quickly and swept her into his arms. She smothered a laugh just as he bent to kiss her.

"Stop, stop. Molly: you aren't supposed to laugh. Think about your motivation here. This is your lover. Don't make me show you two how it's done." She laughed again at the notion of having Sherlock as a lover.

"Oh I'd love to see you kiss Sherlock…"began Molly.

"Don't even go there, John."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Let's go again. Action!"

Molly turned to face the lab bench and resumed writing her notes while she waited for the "scene" to begin again.

Sherlock came up behind her, sneaking his arms around her waist and squeezed her tight.

"Hello," he whispered in his best deep voice, as he kissed her on the neck.

She sighed happily against him.

"Excellent. That's perfect. I knew you had it in you. Now you just need to maintain that for the whole of Saturday evening and it'll be fine," pronounced John.

Sherlock looked as if he had received a gold star. He gave Molly a final unnecessary cuddle and let her go.

"Right, Molly, bring out that homeless man. Dimmock wants my opinion."

While the unfortunate was wheeled out, John thought of another angle they hadn't covered.

"Molly, what are you wearing on Saturday night?"

"Oh, my black dress from Christmas."

John shook his head.

"Wrong."

"What's wrong with it? I think I look good in it. Don't I?" Uncertainty crept into her voice.

"You are far too sexy in it."

"Er, what now?"

"What John is trying to say, very inarticulately, is that a woman in a successful relationship wouldn't wear that dress to see old friends. She'd wear something elegant and stylish. That dress is overkill: it's for attracting attention," explained Sherlock.

"Well, it didn't work the last time I wore it," she grumbled under her breath.

"What do you mean? We all noticed it immediately!" he continued.

"Not exactly the sort of attention I was hoping for that night!"

"I think John and I should come over tonight and review your potential outfits."

John nodded in agreement.

"We'll bring dinner. What time will you be home?"

"Ah…."

"She's finished at 5:30 but she needs to tidy up first, as company was not anticipated. It's not necessary, Molly."

"Come at 7pm."

"Fine. Fish & chips ok with you?" asked John.

She indicated agreement, already lost in a world of what the hell else she could wear.

When the guys arrived at Molly's later that evening, she had had time to tidy away the washing, yesterday's dinner dishes and give the kitchen a once-over. She'd also pulled out two other possible dresses, neither of which they'd seen her wear before.

Sherlock greeted her with a quick kiss on the lips. He looked over at John for approval, who nodded silently.

"Let's eat this first," John said.

"No, we should do the clothes first. Molly's stomach will be distended from eating which will affect her shape."

"Oh give it a rest, Sherlock. She's barely there as it is without a back-handed "this will make you fat" comment."

"I actually only have 2 things to show you, but I'd rather eat hot food."

After they'd finished the fish and chips, Molly disappeared into her room to put on her first outfit: a wine red shift dress that she'd bought while shopping for the hospital Christmas party. It was sleeveless, to the mid-thigh and slightly A-line. She put on knee high black boots and returned to her living room.

"That's a very different look for you, Molly," started John.

"By which you mean, awful?"

"Not at all, with your hair up in a ponytail, I think it would be very smart. What do you think, Sherlock?"

Sherlock thought he'd like a closer look at her quite shapely thighs but wisely kept it to himself.

"Very nice. Perhaps too smart-casual for this event. Let's see the other one."

She was soon back in her second outfit: a navy knee-length dress made of jersey fabric, with a faint sheen. It hung loose on the collar and gathered to one side at the waist.

"Lovely," said John.

"Perfect. I have a dark blue suit which I can wear to chime in," agreed Sherlock. "Wear your hair down. No Christmas decorations."

Molly smiled wryly at the reference to the ghost of Christmas past. She added a request of her own.

"Wear your dark purple shirt with the suit and we have a deal."

They grinned at each other.

"Ok, my work here is done. I have a date," announced John. Sherlock stood up to leave.

"No, stay, watch tv, moan about whatever it is you're watching. Relax in each other's company. I'll see you at home."

"John, thank you so much for all your help," said Molly.

"My pleasure. Good night."

With John gone, Molly suddenly felt massively over-dressed so she rushed back to her bedroom and changed into jeans and a warm jumper.

Sherlock had turned on the television and was flicking around aimlessly. She hopped onto the couch beside him.

"Did you find anything?" she enquired.

"Nope. What would we do if we were a couple in this scenario?" he replied.

Molly could think of a few things but they probably weren't what he had in mind.

"Ah, you think we'd just turn it off, listen to some music and snuggle up?" He made it sound like cruel and unusual punishment.

"Something like that, with fewer clothes," she said bravely with a small blush.

"Oh. I don't think we need go that far with practicing."

"Of course not! I didn't mean to imply…."

"Relax, it's fine."

He awkwardly patted the cushion next to him.

"We could try the former though."

"Ok."

Molly scooted over and leaned her head against his chest. He put his arm around her. Neither relaxed.

"I thought there was supposed to be a music component to this part of the evening."

"Right." Molly leaped up: strangely eager to get away from him. She selected some random jazz and returned to the couch.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's jazz."

"It's rubbish. It's barely music."

"Actually, it's all Bach played in a jazz style. Would you like to amend your previous statement?"

"…"

"I thought so."

Molly manhandled Sherlock's arm back around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"This is strange. I'm not used to cuddling."

"Do you want me to move over?"

He responded by tightening his grip on her.

"Are we mad to even try this?" she asked.

"We are both competent actors. As long as no one delves too deeply, we're safe."

Molly lifted her head and though aiming for Sherlock's cheek, kissed the corner of his mouth. She froze and their eyes locked.

"I don't recommend freezing up like that on Saturday night. It would look suspicious."

"So I should just go with the flow?"

"Well, let's see."

He hauled her up on to his knee and brushed his lips against hers. One eyebrow rose in a question. Molly decided to let actions take precedence so she initiated another kiss. This one lasted longer. She tilted her head and wound her hand around the back of Sherlock's neck.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Apparently."

Molly linked her arms around his neck, pulling Sherlock closer as they continued to kiss. He drew an experimental hand along her arm and then placed it on her waist, almost reaching the small of her back. She arched into his touch, breaking their kiss. Molly ran her finger along Sherlock's jaw and followed it with little kisses. He drew a breath sharply – this was a new sensation, which in itself was nothing compared to the feeling when she gently nipped at his earlobe.

As distracted as he was, Sherlock's mind was not disengaged. He could see easily how much time could be wasted in the pursuit of physical pleasure – indeed, he had wasted time like this in the past….mostly while high. This was more fun though because he already cared about Molly.

For her part, Molly's thoughts were a mish-mash of constantly repeating Sherlock's name, and thinking _I can't believe this is happening_, while he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. Suddenly, he let go, releasing her lip with a small pop. He looked at his watch, nodded, and announced he should be going.

"What?" was Molly's stunned reaction.

"Research suggests that the average physical interlude lasts 20 minutes. This one has been 23, which is more than satisfactory, so I should go now."

"Sherlock, there's no right or wrong way here. You can stay as long as you like."

She cupped his cheek in her hand and gave him another kiss, attempting to prolong his stay with the best weapon available. But Sherlock was resolute.

"I really must be going…l'll see you at the train station tomorrow."

He managed to extricate himself and made a very hasty exit. Molly was left dazed, confused and more than a little hot under the collar. She knew his real reason was terror.

Molly stood waiting at the ticket barrier in King's Cross. Sherlock was a little late and she was on the verge of ringing him when he appeared beside her, overnight bag in hand.

"Hello."

"Oh good, you're here."

"You were worried I had changed my mind?"

"No. Not at all," she dissembled.

"Don't try to fool me, Molly. I am here. Let's get on the train."

Sherlock had brought a newspaper to read on their 3 hour train journey. Molly had brought her laptop and began showing him photos of her classmates, complete with biographies.

"Molly, there's really no need for this."

"They'll expect you to have heard about them, at least on some level."

"It'll be fine."

They continued to bicker all the way to Leeds. The hotel was, as Sherlock had said, quite centrally located. Molly checked them in while Sherlock dawdled in the lobby, deducing random strangers.

"Right, I've got the key. We have 2 hours before we meet my classmates back here. Let's go get ready."

Molly fumbled with the electronic key card. Sherlock took it from her – it looked tiny in his hands. She had a flash of those hands on her body the night before and briefly closed her eyes to swallow the memory.

The door opened and they entered the room. Two sets of eyes immediately lit on the double bed. Neither had thought to ask for a twin room, even though none of Molly's friends were going to be in their room.

"We could go back down and ask them to swap…" began Molly.

"No need. It's best to keep up the full pretence just in case."

Sherlock took his coat off and stretched out on the bed, his hands behind his head. Molly slipped off her shoes and lay down beside him, leaning her head into her hand.

"Maybe we should practice some more?" she asked cheekily.

Molly suddenly found herself on top of Sherlock, his arms squeezing her tight, one of her legs in between his. She nuzzled into his neck.

"Umm, this is nice. Why don't we do this more often?" Sherlock was surprised to hear himself say. Molly's delighted look of surprise told him it was the right thing. After 20 minutes later, Sherlock's allotted time for "physical interludes", Molly hopped up, straddling him, her hands roaming over his now naked chest.

"Sorry, Sherlock. 20 minutes are up. We have to go get ready," she said wickedly.

"You are kidding me. We're not going anywhere for…at least another 20 minutes!"

"I thought you said 20 minutes was the appropriate amount of time…"

"For snogging on the couch, yes, but now we're in a bed, so different rules apply," was the response, accompanied by a sharp thrust of his hips.

"Oh you are a terrible distraction. Well, maybe just a bit longer…."

Downstairs in the bar, Molly's favourite classmates waited for her.

"Where is she? It's not like Molly to be late," said one.

"And I'm sure I saw her earlier checking in…" agreed another.

"We did say 8pm?"

"Yes, and it's almost 8:45 now. Let's head on in to dinner. I'll send her a text."

Just then, Molly and Sherlock appeared. Molly was out of breath and a little red in the face but beaming. Sherlock echoed her broad smile. Both were wearing their planned outfits and if they were dressed with a little less care than usual, no one particularly noticed.

"Hi everyone! Sorry we're a bit late. This is Sherlock Holmes, my new boyfriend."

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Molly. Had you pegged as a cat lady!"

"Well, we've known each other for years but only got together really recently," explained Sherlock.

"In fact, only my great respect for Molly that convinced me I should come down here and make small talk with her friends, instead of staying in bed with her for the rest of the evening."

Molly blushed purple but didn't even try to hide how pleased she was as she made introductions.

Sherlock sent John a text.

"We may have to review our living arrangements."

"I fucking told you so! Did you even make it to dinner?" was John's not so eloquent response.

Sherlock beamed at his phone before putting it away and devoting all of his attention to his new girlfriend.


End file.
